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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28376334">Harry Potter, DILF Hunter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vukovich/pseuds/Vukovich'>Vukovich</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Himbo Harry Potter, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:16:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28376334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vukovich/pseuds/Vukovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Auror Potter doesn't know what a DILF is, but if Malfoy's one, then Harry's gonna be the Ministry's best DILF Hunter ever!</p><p>Or, five times Harry heard Draco was a DILF, and one time he found it to be pleasantly true.</p><p>*All spelling errors are Harry's, not the author's.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Wild DILF has been Spotted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An enormous thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Gray/works">Elle_Gray</a> for beta-reading this, and explaining the nuances of “cringe”. </p><p>Un grand merci à Tontonguetonks (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tontonguetonks">AO3</a> and <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/tontonguetonks">Tumblr</a>) for French-picking.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Well, well, look who's back in town, just eating brunch like he's not a DILF.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Egg yolk ran menacingly across Harry’s plate, mixing with the bean runoff, and he snatched his toast up before it made contact. He wasn’t entirely sure what “over-easy” had meant, but it sounded like it would be less work for the cook, so that’s what he’d ordered. <i>Wrong again, Potter,</i> he thought.</p>
<p>“Harry,” Luna crooned, spearing blueberries precisely onto her fork, “are you trying a new form of haruspicy?”</p>
<p>Their Diagon brunches always had moments like this, where he and Neville weren’t sure if they were going to learn something new or wonder if Luna wasn’t putting them on. Thoroughly confused, Harry squinted at Neville’s sun-limned shape next to her for some kind of explanation, but he just shrugged and took a heroic bite of sausage. Blinking rapidly, Harry turned back to Luna, waiting for the shimmering gray sunspots to coalesce into blond hair with a topiary in the background. </p>
<p>“I don’t… I don’t really like spices, no.” Harry folded his toast in thirds and bit the entire bottom half off in a single go.</p>
<p>“Haruspicy,” Luna’s sing-song cadence continued. “It’s a form of divination that uses livers. But yolks aren’t so different.”</p>
<p>Neville washed the sausage down with a gratuitous gulp of orange juice, and Harry winced at the imagined flavor combination. “Lu, I don’t think Harry’s divining anything from his brunch.” He shot Harry a questioning glance, and Harry nodded.</p>
<p>“No, definitely not,” he mumbled around a mouthful of toast.</p>
<p>“Well,” Luna said, blueberry-laden fork gesticulating like an indigo abacus, “if you <i>were</i>, I was going to suggest you ask it about Justin Finch-Fletchley.”</p>
<p>Neville’s eyebrows rose in curiosity, which didn’t bolster Harry’s confidence on the topic. Luna had been trying to set him up with eligible men for a good six months, but her tastes were… interesting.</p>
<p>“Why’s that?” he asked, gaze darting to the surrounding tables. </p>
<p>It wasn’t as if it were a secret. Not really. Auror Potter didn’t date. He signed autographs, and he took philanthropists out to dinner on the behalves of charities, and he attended ribbon cuttings, and he was everywhere with everyone. </p>
<p>But he was always there alone. Kissing cheeks, nary a good snog. Shaking hands, never using those hands for anything more interesting. Arrive alone, submit to being observed, go home alone and even lonelier for it.</p>
<p>It wasn’t as if he couldn’t get a date, but anybody who wanted to be arm candy wasn’t really worth the effort, and Justin “I was headed for Eton” Finch-Fletchley would probably <i>adore </i>being arm candy.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Luna sang, dipping the blueberry fork in a bowl of oatmeal, “I interviewed him for a Quibbler article on Muggle slang last week. He said he and Ernie have split. Ernie took a position with MACUSA in Nude York.”</p>
<p>Neville coughed and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “<i>New</i> York, Lu.”</p>
<p>Her fork paused on its way to her mouth, a raft of berries with a cargo of oats. “Well, that’s a bit of a disappointment, then.” Her smile faltered, and she licked the oats off the fork, leaving the blueberries on the tines.</p>
<p>“I don’t think Justin’s really my type, anyway,” Harry muttered. “Especially not fresh out of a breakup like that. He and Ernie had been together since seventh year, right?”</p>
<p>Neville nodded, his face somewhat obscured in his own shadow. “Yeah, six years, then. I thought they got married years ago.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no,” Luna said, crushing the blueberry fork against her plate in a violent, spurting mess of white and purple guts. “Ernie could never marry a Virgo. That wouldn’t do at all.”</p>
<p>Harry and Neville each shrugged and busied themselves with their plates. Bean juice had found the other piece of Harry’s toast and turned one corner into a bit of a mess. He liked beans. He liked toast. But the beans actually on the toast, less so. Soggy.</p>
<p>Nipping around the sodden corner of bread, he weighed his options, as he always did when the topic came up. Justin was probably a decent enough bloke to take to Ministry functions and having to parade himself around town more bearable. But Harry dreaded doing <i>more</i> publicity, and Justin seemed like the type who would thrive on it.</p>
<p>What really sounded appealing was the opposite. Someone who despised the flash of cameras and press of flesh. Someone to come home to, or sneak off with. Someone he could do… certain things with, and not spend the following week walking on eggshells, scared out of his wits they’d sell their story to The Daily Prophet.</p>
<p>Neville elbowed Luna gently, his gaze trained over Harry’s shoulder. “DILF alert, Lu,” he said conspiratorially. “Right?”</p>
<p>Luna looked up from her blueberry mash, eyes widening briefly before nodding. “Yes, I would say so. Well-spotted.”</p>
<p>“I paid attention.” They exchanged a fond glance, and Neville craned his neck to peer around Harry. “Looks like he’s not here alone.”</p>
<p>Harry scowled, not sure if a “DILF” was one of Luna’s creatures or some Muggle thing.</p>
<p>“Don’t turn around, Harry,” Luna hissed. “I think an Auror’s attention would spook him a bit.”</p>
<p>Neville nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the mysterious being somewhere behind Harry. He cast a quick <i>Tempus</i> and sighed. </p>
<p>Luna’s eyes flicked to his wand and up to his face, her lips set in quiet resignation. “We won’t keep you, Harry.”</p>
<p>It would have sounded passive-aggressive from anyone else, but not from Luna. Whether he had places to be, or he was just done being in public, it didn’t matter to her or Neville. Neither of them had ever taken offense when he ducked out of a meal early to just go home and hide. </p>
<p>If the Ministry had let him, he’d have just worn his Auror robes as a permanent overcoat. Nobody bothered Aurors. Everyone bothered heroes.</p>
<p>“Thanks, guys,” Harry muttered. “See you next Saturday.”</p>
<p>He turned and pushed his chair in, the scrape of the metal over the concrete drowning out their goodbyes. His hands patted his pockets in a mental checklist as he walked, eyes downcast. Wallet, wand, mobile, badge. Check, check, check, and check.</p>
<p>A low, drawled voice caught his ear as he passed. “If you do that, you’ll put yourself in a corner.”</p>
<p>It was a familiar voice, but it made his hand linger over his wand and goosebumps run down his arms. His fingers traced the wand in his back pocket as he looked around for the source, lingering at the edge of the tables.</p>
<p>A head of lop-sided platinum hair caught the sun like a dry dandelion in a searchlight. <i>Draco fucking Malfoy</i>.</p>
<p>Out of the blue and in from the cold, or wherever he’d been for the last six years. Harry’s last recollection of him was him sitting in magic-cancelling Auror cuffs next to his parents in Courtroom Ten as Harry testified on his behalf. Not so much as a thank you card or nod of appreciation.</p>
<p>Harry glanced back at Luna and Neville, noting Luna’s subtle alarm and Neville’s shooing hand. So Malfoy was the DILF, whatever the hell a DILF was. Something unsavoury, obviously.</p>
<p>Malfoy, the only living Death Eater to avoid Azkaban. Malfoy, who had so carefully crafted his statements to the Wizengamot that it had taken them four years to realize that he’d never actually eschewed blood supremacy or apologized in any fashion. Malfoy, just sitting at a table, pencil in hand, sleeves rolled up and Mark out in the open for the world to see. Not a care in the fucking world. </p>
<p>A smaller mop of white-blonde hair popped up from under the table, a second pencil brandished in nimble little fingers. “Got it!”</p>
<p>Harry wasn’t staring. Aurors don’t stare. They observe. He gulped past a lump in his throat and tried to ignore the sweat on his palms.</p>
<p>The boy with the pencil climbed into the chair across from Malfoy, little feet skimming the ground as they kicked. Malfoy passed the paper to him and waited, looking away from Harry toward the street and surrounding shops.</p>
<p>A man blocked Harry’s view, and he scowled as he looked up to find Neville’s chiding smile. “We’re on our way out, too.”</p>
<p>A chair scraped against the concrete from Malfoy’s direction, and Harry fought the urge to peek around Neville in a rather obvious fashion. Auror observation was too subtle an art for that. He could tell Malfoy had gotten up and stepped out toward the street.</p>
<p>He cast a glance over his shoulder to see Malfoy fetch a rolling pencil from the sidewalk. Casually elegant in a trim white button-down and fitted navy trousers. He turned his back to Harry and pulled his chair out.</p>
<p>“Harry,” Luna interjected, looping an arm through his and turning him to walk away from the cafe, “could you explain to me, for my article, what the difference between a father figure and a dad bod is?”</p>
<p>“I…” Harry stammered as they flanked him and led him away. </p>
<p>The boy dropped his pencil again, and Malfoy sighed and bent over as Harry’s gaze lingered over Malfoy’s tight-stretched trousers.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Luna,” Harry muttered, a bit dazed. “I can explain it.”</p>
<p>He was going to expose that DILF, no matter what.</p>
<p>
  <b><span class="u">D.I.L.F.</span><br/>
D: <strike>Devius Demonic</strike> Death Eater<br/>
I: <strike>Insider</strike> Incriminated in<br/>
L: <strike>Lowlife</strike> Low-level<br/>
F: <strike>Fraud</strike> Felonies</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. DILFs up the Wazoo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Auror Weasley reports DILFs have infiltrated the Ministry.</p><p>This is all very serious.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You wouldn’t believe who I saw at brunch.” Harry watched from across the kitchen as Ginny tentatively rested her hands on Hermione’s belly. She looked like she was handling a cursed orb in the Disarmament Chamber on Level Two, not waiting for her niece or nephew to kick.</p><p>Ron shrugged out of his Auror robes and flicked the Floo powder off before throwing them over a chair. “No idea, Har.” He wandered to the fridge and fished out a couple of green glass bottles, handing one to Harry before taking the seat at the same corner of the table. “Madame Hooch?”</p><p>“Huh?” Harry grunted, twisting off the bottle cap with enough force to slosh beer down his hand. “Oh. No.” He licked along his arm and wiped it on his jeans.</p><p>“Uhm…” Ron trailed off in thought, taking a swig from his bottle. “Somebody from school?”</p><p>Harry nodded, then jumped when Ginny squealed. Not an elated squeal, Harry thought. More of an <i>Eww, it touched me</i> kind of squeal.</p><p>“Hmm. Justin?” Ron’s blue eyes watched him with a glint, and Harry frowned behind the lip of his bottle. Had everyone gotten together to try to set him up with Finch-Fletchley?</p><p>“Nope,” Harry said with pop. “Draco Malfoy. In broad daylight.”</p><p>He waited for Ron’s shocked gasp, or for his bottle to crash against the floor. Perhaps one of the women would faint in horror. Well, maybe other women, not these two.</p><p>Instead, Ron nodded and tipped his chair back to reach into a stack of papers on the worktop behind him. “Yeah, saw in the Prophet he’d moved back from France. Bordeaux, I wanna say.”</p><p>Hermione and Ginny drifted up behind Ron, examining the paper over his shoulders. Ginny let out a low warning whistle. “Better tell Robards to put out an APB on a DILF in Diagon, Ron.”</p><p>Ron’s chin tilted up to Hermione, and she ran her fingers through his hair before tightening her hold. “She’s right, Ron. Gotta watch out for DILFs. They infiltrate the Ministry with alarming ease. The receptionists get one look at them and allow them right in.  Even into the Auror Office.”</p><p>“Do they, now?” Ron grinned up at her and ruffled his hair back in some semblance of order. Hermione nodded sagely, and Ron slid the paper over to Harry.</p><p>A moving photo of Malfoy and the little boy occupied a corner of an inside page. In the picture, Malfoy and the boy stood in a sketchy-looking alley. Malfoy looked up to the camera with a vicious sneer as he tucked the boy behind him and reached for a doorknob.</p><p>There was no article with the photo, just a caption:<br/>
<b>Draco Malfoy, exonerated Death Eater and recent Bordeaux potions mastery graduate, has opened an apothecary in Knockturn Alley. Appointments required, address available by owl.</b></p><p>Harry turned the page, hoping for more information. Who was the boy? Why open an apothecary in Knockturn, of all seedy places? Why would an apothecary require an appointment and an unlisted address?</p><p>Because it was all some kind of shady DILF shit, Harry surmised. Malfoy had the money to open a proper apothecary in a better neighborhood. That man was up to something sinister, like he always had been, the fucking snake.</p><p>“What else do DILFs do, ‘Mione?” Ron whispered, winking at Ginny, who responded by sticking her tongue out.</p><p>“Well, love, they’re just extraordinarily sneaky. And persuasive. It’s often how they become DILFs to begin with.”</p><p>Harry folded the paper and stood, taking his beer with him to the Floo. “Headed out, guys,” he muttered, scooping up a handful of powder.</p><p>Ron’s face surfaced from amid Hermione’s curls briefly. “See you at work tomorrow, mate.”</p><p>Harry nodded. Tomorrow, he’d find out what a DILF was, and how worried the Ministry needed to be.</p><p>That DILF was going to get what he had coming.</p><p>
  <b><span class="u">D.I.L.F.</span><br/>
D: <strike>Dispenser Doping</strike> Druggist<br/>
I: <strike>Inferior Injurus</strike> Impersonating<br/>
L: <strike>Larcenous</strike> Legitimate<br/>
F: <strike> Pharm Farmacys</strike> Farmasuticles</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Weapons Grade DILF</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The other Aurors agree.  Malfoy isn't just a DILF.  He's the DILF Emperor.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Casual, Harry thought. The Chosen One is totally allowed to just casually eavesdrop on his female coworkers in the next cubicle over. Even if they were several years younger than him and technically his subordinates. </p>
<p>They all knew he had no reason to creep on women, so that made it less weird. Somehow. And it wasn’t like he’d chosen them, in particular. The assignments were alphabetical, and they were nearest to his cubicle.</p>
<p>He’d opened a copy of the Prophet up to Malfoy’s picture, drawn a big red circle around it, and left it on Janine’s desk while she went up to Ministry Munchies for tea. Of the women who congregated around tea time, she knew criminal statutes best, and he trusted her to educate the others on the whole DILF situation. And anyone else who happened to be listening.</p>
<p>The acoustics weren’t great, and he was well aware anyone coming in his office was going to be more than a little alarmed to find him kneeling against the wall with his ear to the joint between panels. A set of Extendable Ears would have been brilliant, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead.</p>
<p>“Hey, Marie, did you see this?” Janine asked.</p>
<p>Harry fidgeted and wished he could see their faces. Janine’s voice was lower than Marie and Theresa, and he couldn’t really tell the other two apart.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Weird location, right?”</p>
<p>“Give it here, Jan.” Theresa harrumphed. “Merlin’s tits. DILFs like that probably don’t have to worry about <i>curb</i> appeal. Probably the opposite, really.”</p>
<p>“I know, right?” Janine said conspiratorially. “Full-scale DILF alert.”</p>
<p>“Ugh, and with the kid. Lethal DILF.”</p>
<p>“French connections, Jan. Weapons-grade DILF.”</p>
<p>“Fucking DILF Emperor,” Janine responded. “Target has been sighted, Auror Porter!”</p>
<p>Harry startled, thinking he'd been spotted, but then remembered Marie's last name was Porter.</p>
<p>“Requesting backup, Auror Reynolds!”</p>
<p>“Aaahhh,” Janine yell-whispered. “The DILF is too powerful! All Aurors report! All Aurors report!”</p>
<p>The women dissolved into hushed giggles, and he heard Janine sigh. “Seriously, though.” Harry heard the paper snap. “That man should not be allowed to walk around unsupervised.”</p>
<p>“You volunteering for an unapproved stakeout, Jan?”</p>
<p>“Gotta work in pairs, though. Marie, you up for DILFwatch?”</p>
<p>“You’re not serious, are you? Robards would never sign off on using work time for that.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I’ll just go after work, then,” Marie said with a snort. “Better bring more than just cuffs, though. DILFs are wily bastards.”</p>
<p>Theresa hummed low in thought. “Kinky, too.”</p>
<p>One or two of the women sighed, and Harry heard the newspaper hit the bin. He crept the few steps back to his desk chair. Elbows on the desk, face in his hands, Harry rehashed the conversation.</p>
<p>
  <i>”Weapons grade DILF”<br/>
“Fucking DILF Emperor”</i>
</p>
<p>So Malfoy wasn’t just a DILF. He was some kind of DILF kingpin, and Robards and the Ministry were too chicken shit to do a damned thing about it. Fine, then.</p>
<p>Auror Potter was going to blow this whole DILF thing himself.</p>
<p>
  <b><span class="u">D.I.L.F.</span><br/>
D: <strike>Dodgy Deplorable</strike> Difficult to<br/>
I:<strike>Immoral Insidious</strike> Infiltrate<br/>
L:<strike>Lawbreaker</strike> Lawless<br/>
F:<strike>Foul Flout</strike> Fugitive</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Oui, Oui, Oui, All the Way Home!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry tracks this DILF down in Knockturn and gets repeatedly insulted by a bilingual child.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Knockturn Alley was surprisingly quiet. It reeked of piss, beer, and stale cigarettes, but at least it was peaceful while the rest of the world bustled to work on a weekday morning. Harry squinted as he tried to match the picture in the Prophet to the side streets as he walked.</p>
<p>It was probably quiet here because the entire Knockturn population was either hungover or still asleep. Definitely not because an Auror in full cardinal red regalia was strutting purposefully around, peeking into alleys and dark windows. No, it wasn’t that. It was because they were all filthy reprobates. His shoes crunched over broken glass, and he frowned, wishing anyone were around to issue a citation to about that. The street was utterly deserted, and he turned in a circle, taking in the suspicious silence.</p>
<p>Lingering at a corner, he stopped to lean against a light pole. He wished he knew what time of day the Prophet photographer had caught Malfoy. Matching shadows to the picture would help immensely. Malfoy and the boy were the only distinctive things in the picture. Grey cobblestones, brick walls, a few puddles, and a gutter grate weren’t much to go on.</p>
<p>Harry folded the newspaper and stuffed it in his back pocket. He may be shite at maths, and spelling, and have the penmanship of a gifted toddler, but he was damned good at investigations, which made Malfoy’s elusiveness even more frustrating. His breath puffed out in an exasperated chuff as he turned to walk back to the corner of Diagon.</p>
<p>”<i>Attention, car il a faim</i>,” a child’s clear voice sang from a side lane way. “<i>Quand il se réveille.</i>”</p>
<p>Harry perked up at the sound and headed toward a narrow passage. The low murmur of a man’s voice and a scuffle of quick feet followed the song. He peeked around the next corner into a dank alley. The cobblestones shone slick in weak morning light, and shadows lingered in vague sentience in the corners.</p>
<p>A jangle of keys and a man’s baritone voice joined the child with a soft hum, and Harry looked up to find Malfoy unlocking a nondescript wooden door while the tow-headed boy pranced a semi-circle around him. Paper bags crinkled in Malfoy’s arms as he jostled the key into the lock and turned it with a full-torso lean.</p>
<p>Harry hesitated, watching the bizarre spectacle of Draco Malfoy juggling unmarked packages and nudging a heavy, foreboding door open. The boy turned and hopped toward the door, his head knocking Malfoy’s forearm squarely as he bounced into the building.</p>
<p>The boy tottered as his toe caught on the doorjamb, and the already-unsteady pile of bags in Malfoy’s arms cascaded down as his hand snapped out to clutch the boy’s shirt, holding his little body in suspension as packages rained down around him. Glass swaddled in paper cracked sharply against the cobblestones, and Malfoy winced like he’d been hexed.</p>
<p>A long sigh shuddered through Malfoy as he exhaled slowly, eyes closed. “Go on in, Scorp. Bring a towel out.” His words drifted to Harry, still lingering behind the corner of the opposite building.</p>
<p>A breeze kicked up behind Harry, blowing his robes out in front of him in a scarlet flag. The boy’s head snapped up, eyes widening in alarm.</p>
<p>His sharp voice echoed down the alley as he swayed dramatically in the doorway. “<i>T'ai comprat te vòli gardar,</i>” he sang. “<i>Pòrc gras te vòli pas vendreeee!</i>” He dissolved into a fit of little giggles.</p>
<p>Malfoy had busied himself examining the contents of the dropped parcels, but his gaze followed the boy’s, pinning Harry to the spot as their eyes met. His mouth turned down in a soft frown, and the boy continued singing.</p>
<p>“<i>Pòrc gras te vòli pas vendre</i>,” he chanted, clawed hands opening and closing like a feral clam. “<i>Pòrc gras te vòli manjar</i>.”</p>
<p>Malfoy shook his head with a withering glare and snapped his fingers. “<i>Arrêtez de faire des bêtises.</i> Get inside.” He shooed the boy in with a wave of his hand. The boy stuck his tongue out at Harry and put a finger to his nose, pushing it up into a pig snout.</p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath and made peace with his cover having been blown by a dancing child. His hands skated over his pockets, double-checking he had everything. Wand in its thigh holster. Wallet, mobile, badge. Good to go.</p>
<p>“Potter, do you usually lurk around Knockturn like a pickpocket, or are you here for something?” </p>
<p>The articulate drawl was still so familiar, but deeper. Somehow even more assured than the swaggering, pointy-nosed wanker of a classmate he’d hated.</p>
<p>“I… Uh…” Harry muttered, rounding the corner, footfalls conspicuously loud on the cobblestones. “No, not really.”</p>
<p>His hands moved to pat his pockets again, and he stopped himself. Why was he so fucking nervous? Whatever these DILFs were, they weren’t threatening on the surface.</p>
<p>He took a deep breath to steady himself and caught a whiff of something he recognized from training. It smelled like vanilla icing, hoarfrost, and fresh hay. He took a careful sniff, leaning down over Malfoy while he bundled a parcel back together. The scent wasn’t just from training. </p>
<p>From a forest, too, he thought. Malfoy looked up while he scented the air, grey eyes growing wider with every breath Harry took.</p>
<p>“Malfoy,” he cautioned, “is that… unicorn blood?”</p>
<p>Nimble fingers whipped a parcel through the doorway to skitter along the floor, and Malfoy stood. “I do not possess unicorn blood,” he said, fingers splayed in the air. “And <i>you</i>, esteemed Auror Potter, do not have a search warrant.”</p>
<p>Harry leaned to peer into the room. A dark, dusty, low-ceilinged space. Rough-cut stones formed the walls and a crude hearth covered in an assortment of caldrons. A filthy bay window faced the street on a side wall, and the boy skipped back and forth in the soft light, tapping out a measured dance on the floorboards.</p>
<p>The child turned and caught Harry watching, round grey eyes glinting. His shoes landed and he squared off, pointing at Harry. “<i>Un cochon à longue queue!</i>” The boy hopped a half-turn and waggled his rear at Harry. “<i>Ou un cochon à courte queue!</i>”</p>
<p>Malfoy stiffened next to him, and the boy looked up at him in challenge, arse still waggling rather impressively. Harry hid a laugh behind his hand at the spectacle.</p>
<p>Malfoy looked livid next to him. “<i>Regarde-moi dans les yeux</i>,” Malfoy hissed, glaring at the boy. “Upstairs. <i>Now.</i>”</p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat and tried to swallow his smile. Serious Auror face, he reminded himself.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Malfoy grumbled. “Hoisted by my own <i>bâtard</i>.”</p>
<p>Harry shrugged, more intent on running through contraband protocols than a child’s song. “Just a kid singing.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Malfoy scoffed. “He knows <i>exactly</i> how inappropriate that was. Little miscreant.” He slid the remaining parcels into the room, paper packages scuffing along the worn floor. “So, what in Merlin’s beard are you doing skulking around here? Kneazle in a tree?”</p>
<p>Malfoy had continued talking, but Harry wasn’t listening. An Auror had probable cause to search a property if illegal substances were suspected, but that required DMLE approval and an assigned team. An Auror in the field had probable cause for search and seizure if health or safety of unrelated parties were at risk.</p>
<p>“I don’t need a warrant,” Harry mumbled to himself, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Malfoy had been staring at him for an indeterminable amount of time. Flint-cold eyes blinked slowly at him. “Thought you’d gone off the rails there.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Harry blew out, stepping over the threshold, “you’ve got a child in an illegal potions lab. I don’t need a warrant to search this place.” The ward pushed against him, melted around his badge, and poured itself back around behind him as he passed through.</p>
<p>“Oh, <i>fuck you</i>, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, hot on his heels as they crossed the threshold. “You have no goddamn idea, you thick-headed knob gobbler.”</p>
<p>Harry turned at the insult. “Low. Even for you, Malfoy.”</p>
<p>Malfoy schooled the shock from his eyes. “Oh… I didn’t know you-”</p>
<p>“No, you know what? Fuck you, too,” Harry spat, anger getting the better of him. “You just broke open a bottle of one of the most highly-controlled substances in the world, threatened a child, and are sneaking around Knockturn like a goddamn DILF.” He stopped to turn and meet Malfoy’s glare. “Which is why I’m here, by the way. Looks like I was fucking right!”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Malfoy’s mouth snapped shut and he eyed Harry warily before speaking. “First off, I have a license for the blood.” He ticked off one finger and raised another. “Second, I sent my son upstairs for offending a guest. Because you <i>should</i> have been offended, but you’re apparently too dense.”</p>
<p>A muffled giggle trickled down the wooden staircase, followed by another refrain in that bell-like voice, “<i>Ou un cochon avec la queue en tire-bouchoooon?</i>”</p>
<p>“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Malfoy snapped toward the stairs. He took a long breath and ran his hands through his shaggy platinum hair. Harry’s breath caught at the gesture, and he frowned at himself. “Gods below, that child’s sense of humor…” He sighed and turned to face Harry, fingertips resting on a worktable. “And the third thing… Well, Potter, that’s rather subjective, so I guess I can neither confirm nor deny the accusation.”</p>
<p>Harry ran his thumb along his wand in its leather holster. The slippery bastard had just weaseled around a solid list of accusations. Just like his Wizengamot statements. Neither here nor there. Neither guilty nor innocent.</p>
<p>“Well,” Malfoy huffed. “You can stand in the middle of the room and stare vacantly as long as you like. I have a bottle of rather expensive unicorn blood, <i>for which I have a license</i>, to filter broken glass from.” He drifted away to rummage through cabinets, and turned to address Harry over his shoulder. “Don’t touch anything, Potter.”</p>
<p>Harry nodded vacantly, turning to take the room in. It didn’t look like an apothecary at all. Proper apothecaries had big shelves loaded with jars of ingredients, and bins of all manner of dried bits.</p>
<p>Instead of the expected bins and jars, a series of dark vials sat on the worktop in a holder, each precisely labeled. There were no mortars and pestles, or satchels, or any of the other apothecary accoutrements.</p>
<p>This room simply had the worktop, a sink, the fireplace, and a few spindly plants in the bay window. Bloodroot and Bleeding Hearts, by the look of them.</p>
<p>Bloodroot, Bleeding Heart, unicorn blood… “Malfoy,” Harry muttered, turning to watch him pouring the broken bottle into a funnel. “Are you selling Blood Curses?”</p>
<p>He didn’t look up from the funnel, jostling it carefully as he tapped the last few drops from the cracked bottle. Harry took a breath, the scent of sweet vanilla and hay sticking in the back of his mouth. Malfoy’s lips tightened in a hard line as he concocted what would probably be an oily non-response.</p>
<p>“I do work with Blood Curses, Auror Potter.” He stood straight and swirled the bottle with the funnel, raising it to eye-level. “But I do not sell them. That would be <i>breathtakingly</i> illegal,” he said with a smirk.</p>
<p>That fucking smirk, Harry thought. The bastard had found some workaround to technically selling Blood Curses. Probably bartering with other DILFs in an underground network.</p>
<p>An apple thudded, rolling down the stairs, followed by oinking. Malfoy shot the stairs another glare, and Harry’s scowl deepened. The man was winding Blood Curses around a child. Not only was it illegal, but abhorrently dangerous. Blood Curses had a tendency to backfire and kill every living thing in a given room. But then maybe Malfoy didn’t give a shit about his son.</p>
<p>“It’s child endangerment, you know.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest, in part to fight the urge to rest his thumb on his wand. “Having him here in your… well, this isn’t an actual apothecary.”</p>
<p>Malfoy simply shrugged, tapping the end of the funnel against the lip of the bottle. A blip of a sparkling drop lingered on the rim of the funnel, refusing to drop. A long, pale finger swept it up to hold it reverently. Just a small, glittering dome on fingertip.</p>
<p>“<i>As-tu faim?</i>” he hollered toward the stairs. A pitter-patter of bare feet responded as the boy clambered down the stairs.</p>
<p>He lowered his outstretched finger, and the boy licked the iridescent droplet off and scampered away. Both of them entirely nonplussed. As if they hadn’t just committed multiple crimes with the small gesture. Not just crimes, but heinous ones, at that. All without batting an eye.</p>
<p>His coworkers had been right. Weapons-grade DILF, indeed.</p>
<p>“Long story short, Auror Potter,” Malfoy said with a tired sigh. “You have no fucking clue what’s going on here, but certain people within the Ministry are well-aware.”</p>
<p>Harry’s thumbnail picked at the base of his wand, needing something to do. So Hermione wasn’t joking when she said the DILFs had infiltrated the Ministry. Malfoy was winding Blood Curses with banned ingredients with a child in the building, and had just <i>fed his own son unicorn blood</i>. It was worse than he’d expected.</p>
<p>“I know that child’s in danger being here with you,” Harry spat. If there was one fucking thing that rankled him, it was child mistreatment. “Send him with his mother, for Merlin’s sake!”</p>
<p>Malfoy stuffed a cork in the bottle and looked up at him slowly. “Would but I could,” he said flippantly. “She died six months ago.”</p>
<p>Harry stifled a gasp and settled for what he hoped was a suspicious squint, but thought it was probably lost behind his glasses. “Uhm… My condolences,” he said. “Single dad, then? That must be rough.”</p>
<p>“Eh,” Malfoy said with a shrug, pulling a quill from a drawer to etch something in minuscule print on the bottle. “Kind of planned it that way, really.”</p>
<p>He looked up to find Harry watching him. “Don’t give me woeful Crup eyes, Potter.” His gaze turned back down to the bottle, flipping it over to write on the other side. “Having a wife didn’t particularly suit me, anyhow,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“That’s… unfortunate,” Harry said hesitantly. What does one say to a young widower who appears rather content with his lot? Who planned on his wife dying? What kind of treachery was that?</p>
<p>“Yes, well, we can’t all be the blissfully-wed Weasley-Grangers, can we?” He set the bottle down and sauntered to the sink, starting the water with an ornate foot pedal, hands raised as he waited. “As delightful as this intrusion has been, Potter. I really do have things to do today. You know, important DILF things,” he said with a chuckle.</p>
<p>Harry harrumphed, crossing his arms again. He admitted it, then. Harry’s gaze wandered to the plants in the window as he added up the evidence he had on Malfoy. An admission to being involved in a criminal organization. An admission to Blood Curse use. Possession of unicorn-</p>
<p>“Potter,” Malfoy barked, scrubbing his hands under the water, sleeves rolled up to display his Mark. “Please leave, you daft wanker. And for the record, a bottle of red is highly preferable to red robes amongst we DILFs. Especially on Thursdays after lunch.”</p>
<p>Harry sighed and made for the door, aware of Malfoy’s gaze following him. Malfoy wiped his hands on a towel, bottom lip caught between his teeth, as if he was waiting for Harry to argue with him. Far be it from him to debate with Malfoy on how to infiltrate a crime syndicate.</p>
<p>“Uhm…” Harry muttered, hand on the doorknob. “Alright, then.”</p>
<p>Malfoy’s whispered curses followed him as he left, “<i>...fucking blighter sexpot…</i>”</p>
<p>Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and resigned himself to a tedious day of research behind his desk.</p>
<p>This DILF was going down, even if Harry had to ride it out himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b><span class="u">D.I.L.F.</span><br/>
D: <strike>Dark Depraived</strike> Departmentally<br/>
I:<strike>Infraction Infringe</strike> Important<br/>
L:<strike>Leech Lowlife</strike> Legal<br/>
F:<strike>Factor</strike> Frustration</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. DILFwatch!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Auror Potter is taking this DILF in for questioning.  This surprisingly cooperative DILF who volunteered to be restrained...?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry squinted through the binoculars, regretting he hadn’t taken Robards up on the offer of enchanting them to work with his glasses. He shoved them in his robe pocket and settled back into his corner of the alley across the street from Malfoy’s… whatever. Blood Curse laboratory? It sure as hell wasn’t an apothecary.</p><p>He patted his pockets down as the binoculars settled. The section of spelled rope felt unfamiliar in the normally-empty pocket next to his cuffs. It unbalanced his pocket routine. But if the other Aurors were right, having extra restraints on hand to take down a DILF might be crucial to success.</p><p>Malfoy had said to show up without his robes, and to bring a bottle of red, whatever that was. Damned if Harry was going to bribe him with a bottle of unicorn blood to get in on this DILF meeting. Undercover work was fine, but there was no way he had the clearance to get contraband like that. Especially not for a not-so-authorized stakeout.</p><p>Thus far, the DILF meeting was turning out to just be Malfoy puttering around in his shop. No one had come or gone in the two hours Harry had been watching, and he didn’t see the boy bopping around in the dim room.</p><p>Malfoy was going to find himself in a DMLE interrogation room by the end of the hour, regardless of his guest list. The room was ready, and he’d gotten Ron to hurriedly co-sign the authorization on his way to the Floo, destined for St. Mungo’s. Any second now, a grainy picture of a wrinkled little Weasley-Granger was going to show up on his mobile.</p><p>He was about ready to knock on Malfoy’s door when he heard said door slam shut with a reverberating thunk. A tall, black-clad figure leaned against the wood, as if to hold it shut, while one hand ran through his hair, tugging the white-blonde strands as he let out a held breath.</p><p>Malfoy’s sigh sounded… good, Harry thought. Like a sigh ought to sound, as if there were a wrong way to sigh. But Malfoy’s heavy exhale was just somehow… good.</p><p>Harry’s breath echoed his, and Malfoy’s head whipped around to face him, aggression already pouring in where alarm faded.<br/>
“<i>Fuck</i>,” Harry whispered to himself, wishing he weren’t wearing scarlet Auror robes while trying remain unseen. Not the best choice.</p><p>Weary disdain wrote itself across Malfoy’s soft frown as he watched Harry stand up from behind a small bin in the alley, and cross the street. Elegant pale fingers fished something out of his trouser pockets, and Harry realized it was a Muggle lighter and a cigarette, shortly on the heels of realizing Malfoy could have easily just pulled a wand on him.</p><p>Grey eyes watched him, unimpressed, and pocketed the lighter and cigarette. The scrutiny was a bit nerve wracking, and Harry shifted foot to foot uneasily as he stood on the other side of the stoop.</p><p>Malfoy sighed again as he examined Harry, but it was tired. Not a pleased sigh like a few moments ago. “You’re late, Potter.” He turned his head and blew out a breath, as if he had actually lit the cigarette instead of pocketing it. “I gave up and started a test batch. You can’t go in.”</p><p>“I’m not late,” Harry huffed. Knowing Malfoy smoked was somehow emboldening, as if he had the upper hand. “And I don’t need to go inside. I’m taking you into the DLME for questioning.”</p><p>Malfoy huffed a laugh. “Alright, Potter, but I have to be somewhere at three o’clock, so you’ll only have an hour. And I have to duck back in and check on this batch in a minute.” </p><p>His grin spread as he watched Harry fidget uncomfortably. His face was just a little too perfect, Harry thought. Like his sigh was a little too perfect. And his silhouette leaning against the door was a little too perfect. Everything about him needed a good mussing up.</p><p>“Fine, but I’m following you in.” Harry patted his pockets down.  “I don’t trust you to not Floo out and escape.”</p><p>“You’re taking this very serious, Auror Potter. But really. You stay out here.” He turned and opened the door, the vanilla and hay scent of unicorn blood rushing out into the alley. </p><p>Harry followed him up the stoop, but stopped when a firm hand pressed against his chest. A warm hand. Malfoy’s thumb rubbed an idle line back and forth over Harry’s robe as he steadily pushed him back off the stoop.</p><p>“You stay here, or you risk becoming a Maledictus, Potter,” he said firmly. Harry pouted, and Malfoy clucked his tongue. “Patience.”</p><p>The warm hand on his chest disappeared, and he watched from the doorway as Malfoy turned off a series of burners, dumped two small cauldrons together, and drew a scalpel from a drawer. </p><p>Unflinching, he cut his thumb and let a few drops fall into the larger cauldron. The room filled with a soft burble, followed by a tight hiss, a soft whoosh of flame, and a long strand of acerbic French profanity.</p><p>“You may enter,” Malfoy muttered bitterly. He deposited a cauldron spouting purple flames into the sink and doused it in a rush of hissing steam.</p><p>Harry watched the scene with horror. Malfoy was brewing blood malediction curses, the likes of which the wizarding world thought were extinct. This had to be a DILF specialty. No one else retained this kind of ability. But why would he risk it?</p><p>“Malfoy, why did you come in if it could turn you into a Maledictus?” Harry asked warily, crossing his arms over his chest. Somehow, the spot Malfoy had touched felt colder now that it did before.</p><p>“Uhm... It can’t.“ Malfoy stalled, fingers tapping nervously. “I’m a carrier.”</p><p>Harry shuffled his feet against the worn floorboards. The DILFs were highly organized if they’d managed to find and train one of the few people in the world who was immune to this kind of curse. That was an unprecedented level of reach and foresight. It also meant Malfoy was probably rather valuable to the syndicate. </p><p>Malfoy ran a hand through platinum strands of hair again, and Harry waited for him to tug it, but his fingers simply passed through as he stepped closer. “I really am sorry about what Scorpius said the other day.” Grey eyes flicked back and forth, not meeting Harry’s gaze. “He can come off rude. He <i>can</i> speak, it’s just easier for him to sing. And easier yet to sing songs he’s been taught.”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “I don’t get it.” He still had no idea what the kid had been singing, other than that it involved an impressive arse waggle and oinking. Both of which Harry had actually thought were rather brilliant.</p><p>“He stutters. Quite a bit, really,” Malfoy said with a soft chuckle. He hopped up to sit on the worktop, oddly casual. “The workarounds come off a little odd. Sometimes off-putting, but he’ll grow out of it. I did.”</p><p>Harry snorted in surprise. “You? Really?”</p><p>A corner of Harry’s lips quirked up in amusement. The idea of the poshly eloquent Draco Malfoy with a bit of a stutter was… cute. Maybe his drawling cadence was more an evolution of having sung his speech as a child. Which begged the question of what his real voice sounded like.</p><p>Malfoy nodded, a hint of a blush blooming on his cheeks. “Still do if I get good and pissed. Or over-tired.” He took a slow breath, heels bouncing against the cabinet under the worktop. “Anyway, I believe you were going to apprehend me?”</p><p>Stormy grey eyes traveled slowly down Harry’s body, lingering on his hips before rising to meet his gaze, and <i>winked</i>. “But there is a couch upstairs, if you’d rather not waste time. I’m down to forty-five minutes before I’m due to pick Scorpius up.”</p><p>Harry stepped up between Malfoy’s knees, noticing them spread wider at his approach. He leaned forward, upper thighs against the edge of the worktop.  “It doesn’t count if I interrogate someone in the field,” Harry said sternly. “DMLE or nothing.”</p><p>Flinty eyes flicked warily between Harry’s face and hands. Malfoy’s teeth pressed into the soft skin of his lip, letting it slip slowly away as he thought. “No witnesses, no recordings, no magic-cancelling cuffs, and I <i>have</i> to leave by Floo by precisely three o’clock. Deal?”</p><p>Harry nodded. It was a fair enough bargain. A spelled quill statement would hold up during trials as well as recordings. And Malfoy was being exceptionally cooperative, so the cuffs weren’t really needed. “Deal, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Oh, but you probably <i>should</i> restrain me, right?” A smirk spread into a full grin, and Harry’s breath stilled before returning in soft gasp. “You know, because I’m… What am I being apprehended for, by the way?”</p><p>Harry shook his head and pulled a section of rope out of his robe pockets. Maybe Malfoy was the dense one here. “For being a DILF, obviously.”</p><p>“Obviously,” Malfoy repeated back with a stern nod. “Chop chop, then, Auror. Truss me up and let’s be gone.”</p><p>Malfoy sat up and put his hands behind his back, grinning wickedly. He was too eager, Harry thought. The man had something up his sleeve. One of the DILFs inside the Ministry was probably going to intervene, and Malfoy already knew it. Conniving bastards, these DILFs.</p><p>Malfoy sat in the middle of the longest edge of the worktop, meaning the shortest path to his wrists was standing in front of him. Right between the knees he so helpfully spread further, inching his hips forward with a wiggle.</p><p>Malfoy was a few inches taller than him standing, but with him seated on the counter, he was a full head higher up. At least he was skinny enough to reach around, and Harry didn’t need to see to activate the spelled rope.</p><p>He tried to ignore the warm press of his waist as he looped the rope around and sent a nudge of magic into it. The coils tightened, and Malfoy’s breath shuddered in. Merlin’s manhood, it sounded even better than his sigh.</p><p>Warm breath tickled Harry’s hair as he double-checked the rope, and Malfoy’s voice came breathy against Harry’s hair, lips pressing gently into the unruly mess. “We really could do this upstairs.”</p><p>Harry leaned back, taking in Malfoy’s glazed expression and wide pupils. About time he showed a little emotion about this whole ordeal, Harry thought. “Nope, it has to be in the DMLE.”</p><p>Malfoy hummed, eyes fluttering shut as he tugged experimentally against the rope. “So committed,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Forty minutes.”</p><p>Harry nodded, checked his pockets, and looped an arm through Malfoy’s to side-along him to the interrogation room.</p><p>He was going to break this DILF wide open.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b><span class="u">D.I.L.F.</span><br/>
D: <strike>Dastardly Dishonest</strike> Debauched<br/>
I: <strike>Illicit</strike> Indecent<br/>
L: <strike>Lieing Lying Laying</strike> Lecherous<br/>
F: <strike> Fillan Fylan</strike>Filanderer?</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Penetrating the DILF Ring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Why does Malfoy want to be strip-searched?<br/>Why does Harry want to touch his hair so much?<br/>Why is Harry so, so wrong?<br/>Just... why?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Auror Potter, I don’t think you’ve searched me thoroughly enough.” Malfoy smirked, the tips of his bare toes skimming the floor as his feet swung under the table. </p><p>Harry curled the spelled rope into a neat coil and tucked it back in his robe pocket. This was turning out to be the strangest interrogation he’d ever been in charge of, and he wondered if he shouldn’t have involved more Aurors.</p><p>“That was a <i>very</i> thorough search.” Harry gestured at the pile of Malfoy’s clothes in the corner. “I really don’t think-”</p><p>“I could be hiding another wand,” Malfoy said with a shrug, setting his hands behind him and leaning back, elbows locked.</p><p>Harry had no idea why Malfoy had insisted on being stripped down and frisked, or how his arse wasn’t freezing off on the metal table. Those little silver satin knickers couldn’t be warm, but then Malfoy was a touch pink all over. Probably had a warming charm in his damn pants. DILFs with enchanted knickers.</p><p>“Where? There’s only one place I didn’t check, and I don’t think you’d hide a wand up your arse.” </p><p>It was true, Harry thought with a frown. That had been the most thorough body search he’d done that didn’t require a Healer for the tricky bits. </p><p>Not that it had been bad, just unnecessary. Kind of nice, actually. Especially checking Malfoy’s hair for weapons. And even more so the little sighs and soft moans he made as Harry had parted the silky strands. He’d added an impulsive tug, and the other man’s whimper was still echoing through his mind. </p><p>It was unprofessional, and he wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but Malfoy had looked at him like he expected him to do it again. All very confusing.</p><p>“You have no idea, Potter. I wasn’t unhappily married to a woman without reason.” Malfoy cast a glance up at the permanent <i>Tempus</i> on the wall, biting the inside of his lip a bit nervously. “Twenty-five minutes, Potter.”</p><p>Harry nodded, pacing in front of him. Twenty-five minutes to get as much information as he could about the DILF network, then send Malfoy on his way.</p><p>“Well, I’ve got questions about your whole marriage situation, if we can start there.” Harry paused in front of him, both surprised and not, to find Malfoy stroking a thumb along a hardening cock through silver satin.</p><p>Grey eyes examined him with a suspicious squint, and the very entertaining thumb ceased its movement. “That’s… a lot more than I was planning on getting into, Potter,” he said softly. He looked away, teeth nipping the inside of his lip again. “In the interest of time, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll answer any questions you have <i>if</i>... you ask them while you undress.”</p><p>“I…” Harry trailed off, not sure what to make of the offer or the scarlet rush creeping up his neck. “Why would the Auror undress?”</p><p>“To… gain the confidence of your informant?” Malfoy said hesitantly, before sitting up straight. “You could be hiding any manner of recording devices under all that clothing, and I simply don’t think I can submit to interrogation by a fully-clothed Auror. So, there.”</p><p>Harry’s breath huffed out with a resigned nod. It wasn’t that outlandish, and if it helped him get closer to penetrating the DILFs, what was a little nudity?</p><p>“Alright, then. I’ll lose the robe if you tell me about how your wife died and why you don’t seem very sad about it.” He let his fingers drift to the buttons over his chest, eyes on Malfoy. “The long story. Don’t try to weasel out of the details.”</p><p>“Lovely,” he replied with a dour smirk. “Astoria died of a Blood Curse, which was likely hastened by Scorpius’ birth.”</p><p>Buttons squeezed through holes in Harry’s robe, a silent reward for the information. He was grateful Malfoy was watching his fingers instead of his face. The man had cursed his wife <i>to death</i> and was entirely blasé about it all. “Keep talking.”</p><p>“Well, I’m not terribly upset about it, because that was the plan. I wanted children. She wanted children. I wanted to not be married to a woman for the rest of my life. She died. It worked out rather well, all things considered.” His chin ran along his own collarbone, dragging his cheek down, as his eyes traveled up Harry’s body. “So… that’s my tragic DILF backstory, I suppose.”</p><p>Malfoy’s smile was bittersweet, and Harry was shocked he could smile at all. But, he’d compiled, so Harry dropped his robe and settled his fingers on his shirt buttons at his collar.</p><p>“What will it take to get your shirt and trousers off, Auror Potter?” He leaned back on his elbows, and the light glinted off the curves of the tight silver satin. Elaborate underwear for a Thursday afternoon, Harry thought.</p><p>“Uhm… the unicorn blood. Just… everything about it.” Harry tore his gaze away from the satin to the equally silver eyes watching him. “But especially why you fed it to your son.”</p><p>“Alright. Twenty minutes left, Potter.” Malfoy’s head lolled back from his shoulders as he thought. “So, Scorp gets a little bit of it every day. Keeps him-”</p><p>Harry gasped, infuriated Malfoy could do that to his son. To anyone, but especially to his own child.</p><p>“<i>You’ve doomed him, Malfoy!</i>” Harry spat, abandoning his buttons in favor of stalking up between the other man’s knees. “You can’t just give a kid unicorn blood! You’ve cursed the rest of his life!”</p><p>Malfoy’s mouth opened and shut several times, and he sat up straight, his platinum hair just under Harry’s chin. He looked shocked, but Harry didn’t know how someone who seemed to use unicorn blood on a regular basis could <i>not</i> know how dangerous it was.</p><p>“Potter,” he drawled carefully, “he was born cursed.” Malfoy watched him warily, eyes upturned. Harry’s gut sank with his words, but he let Malfoy speak first. “Why don’t <i>you</i> tell <i>me</i> what you think I’m up to, and just disrobe every time you get something wrong? I suspect it would be faster.”</p><p>“Uhm, alright.” Now, Harry thought, it was awkward. Undressing to reward Malfoy’s cooperation had made a lot more sense than this new setup, but it would still get him the information he needed.</p><p>“Start after the trial, and for every fact you get wrong, you owe me a button.” Malfoy’s grin was predatory, and it made Harry’s skin weirdly itchy, but not in a way that made him want to scratch it himself.</p><p>“After the trial, you… fled to France?”</p><p>“Half-button. I did not flee. I moved. Continue.”</p><p>“And then you met Astoria, and… I dunno. Fell in love and got married and became a potions master and had a kid.”</p><p>Malfoy barked a laugh. “Oh, Merlin, Potter. That’s going to cost you at least three buttons. Maybe four.”</p><p>Harry’s face flushed, but his fingers slowly complied. He kind of wished they’d started with his trousers. They were a bit tight.</p><p>Malfoy ticked off facts on his fingers as he lectured. “Astoria and I had known each other for years. We did not ‘fall in love’, but rather endured laborious familial negotiations. I did do my potions mastery there, so you got something right. And yes, we had Scorpius.”</p><p>He watched Harry unbuttoning, and licked his lips as his chest came into view. Silently, Harry wished he’d have worn an undershirt, but it got damned hot under Auror robes. He could feel Malfoy’s breath against his exposed skin, and it was a bit much.</p><p>“Continue, Potter,” he said huskily. “Spare no filthy detail.”</p><p>“Right,” Harry said with a too-loud gulp. “So you learned how to wind Blood Curses, and then you cursed your wife to get rid of her. And I guess you cursed your son accidentally in the process. And then came here to sell Blood Curses and deal unicorn blood.”</p><p>Malfoy’s breath against his chest halted as he froze, only to speak directly to Harry’s exposed skin. Harry felt the blood drain from his face, eyes darting as he added up the number of assumptions he’d just blurted.</p><p>“Potter,” he said, barely a whisper. “For that, you should lose all your clothes.” He looked up at Harry, fury and tears in his eyes. “But I think I’ve mistaken ineptitude for foreplay, and I’m done here.”</p><p>Confusion wove a tight rope in Harry’s throat as he struggled to understand Malfoy’s words. The man in front of him nudged at his chest, presumably so he could slide off the table, but Harry was lost in thought. Malfoy’s shoulders slumped, his earlier bravado gone.</p><p>“Potter, move. If I have to roll off this table like a seal, it will cost me the last of my dignity.” He didn’t look up, fingertips still pressing against Harry’s chest in an effort to budge him. “I’m just going to Floo in to St. Mungo’s early.”</p><p>Harry’s hands needed to do something, but if he patted his pockets, he’d end up touching Malfoy’s naked thighs, which he didn’t think would go well. What he really wanted to do was put his hands in that silvery hair again, but that would also backfire. Malfoy’s words sank in, and worry bubbled up in his chest.</p><p>“He’s at St. Mungo’s and you’re not with him?” Harry accused. It seemed awfully shitty for a child to be alone in hospital without a parent.</p><p>“Wow, Potter. Hold the judgement,” Malfoy retorted, then sighed, hot breath tickling down Harry’s chest. “Maledictus play group. One of the few places he’ll speak to other children. Astoria’s parents started it when she was about his age. Mungo’s kept it going. ”</p><p>The fingers against his chest dropped, and Harry fought the urge to press them against him again. Or pull Malfoy’s head against him and run his fingers through his hair. And grab a hold of it just a little and-</p><p>Pieces of information clicked together, and the blood drained from Harry’s face. Malfoy’s wife was born with the curse. And Malfoy had said he was a carrier. And their son was also cursed. And unicorn blood could keep someone alive.</p><p>“<i>Oh, Jesus Muggleborn Christ</i>,” Harry hissed at himself. “I fucked it all up.”</p><p>Malfoy snorted softly and leaned back to look dejectedly up at him. “Yeah, you really, really did.”</p><p>Harry ran his fingers through his own hair, finally finding a purpose for them. It wasn’t nearly as soft as Malfoy’s, but it was better than embarrassing himself further.</p><p>Malfoy wasn’t a wife-murdering, child-cursing, black market curse dealer. He was a single father of an ill child. Merlin’s goddamned man tits.</p><p>“Fill in the blanks for me?” Harry asked sheepishly. His hair wasn’t doing a great job of getting the nervous sweat off his palms.</p><p>Grey eyes rolled up to judge him. Judge him worthy or unworthy of a chance at redemption. An opportunity to wash the taste of his own foot from his moronic mouth.</p><p>“Fine,” Malfoy said with a sigh. “Fifteen minutes, by the way.”</p><p>Harry released his grip on his hair in favor of settling his hands on his hips.</p><p>“You figured most of it out. Well past-due, but you got there, so <i>brava</i>, I suppose.” He leaned back, coolly assessing Harry. “I think the only parts you missed were that we moved back for the unicorn blood supply, all of my research is on <i>unwinding</i> Blood Curses, and I was never particularly appreciative of the fairer sex. Faithful husband though I was.”</p><p>Harry stared at him, parsing through his words. He was too close, and his hair was too distracting for his admissions to make any sense.</p><p>“Salazar’s sphincter, Potter. The abbreviated version?”</p><p>Nodding, Harry returned his hands to his hip pockets, again resisting the urge to pat them down.</p><p>“A woman with a hereditary curse and a gay man who’s an unwitting curse carrier get married for the purpose of making a baby to be raised by a gay widower. Baby is cursed. Gay dad and baby wander off into the world to figure out how to undo the curse. Following?”</p><p>Harry’s hands slid in his pockets to check their contents, but found a better purpose in stretching the tightening fabric away from his cock.</p><p>“You’re gay,” he blurted.</p><p>Malfoy simply blinked. “Yes,” he deadpanned. “The man who told you to show up with a bottle of wine and asked you to tie him up, strip him down, and grope him repeatedly is, indeed… profoundly gay.”</p><p>“I’m gay,” Harry mumbled, and wondered if he’d ever actually said the words out loud to anyone before.</p><p>“I gathered that.” Malfoy gestured to Harry’s crotch with an open palm. “And if this is gay wizard dating, I’m going to get several cats, instead,” he muttered.</p><p>Harry’s head buzzed with too many ideas, and the feedback from his body wasn’t helping him sort through any of it at all. Malfoy wasn’t evil, but he was nearly naked. He wasn’t a murderer, just a dad. And <i>dating</i>? Had he just said <i>dating</i>?</p><p>“I don’t…” Harry muttered, scrunching his eyes shut against the onslaught of too many simultaneous thoughts. “I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>His breath came fast, and his hands skittered over his pockets, absently brushing Malfoy’s thighs, but not really feeling it. Grey eyes watched him, more concerned than accusatory.</p><p>“Pressing issue first, Potter. Literally,” he said with a smirk, eyes on Harry’s crotch. “Would you like to have sex on this table? With me? For…” He cast a glance up at the wall. “Fifteen minutes or less?”</p><p>“I…” Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in a secure room with a man who hated being in the newspapers as much as he did and made the most delicious sighs. “Yeah?” Harry asked. Malfoy nodded sheepishly, but stayed quiet. Harry took a second long breath. “Yeah, okay.”</p><p>Malfoy’s eyes lit up, and a small smile graced his lips as his fingertips found Harry’s belt buckle. “May I?”</p><p>Harry nodded, too quickly to be dignified, he thought. That itchy feeling under his skin was back with new fire as he felt the other man’s fingers deftly unbuckle him. It was strange and right and bizarre and unstoppable and made his own hands eager to touch something soothing.</p><p>His trousers dropped, belt buckle clattering against the floor, and he shivered in his half-buttoned shirt and boxers. It wasn’t a cold shiver, but an exposed, raw shudder.</p><p>Fingers worked down the remaining buttons of his shirt, and he found his voice. “Malfoy, I don’t… I mean. I haven’t…”</p><p>Malfoy swung his legs behind him onto the table so he was lying on his front and propped himself up on his elbows. He reached out and  grazed soft lips just below Harry’s navel. He gasped, finally giving in and threading his fingers through that silky hair. His touch brought a soft moan from the other man, and his own hips tilted forward at the sound.</p><p>Malfoy whispered against his skin, lips tickling the trail of dark hair. “Me, either.” He huffed out a breath and gripped Harry’s hips in strong hands. “So long ago, I honestly don’t remember it well.”</p><p>Harry’s gaze locked on Malfoy’s satin-clad arse as he lay along the table; one long expanse of warm skin briefly broken by a tight line of silver satin over an enticing arse.  Malfoy’s knees bent, feet idly tracing patterns in the air.</p><p>His lips slid over Harry’s boxers, up the line of his cock, making his hips buck at the touch. “But,” Malfoy continued, “I do know I’d like you to fuck me.”  </p><p>“Oh, gods,” Harry blurted, arousal pooling hot and tight. Malfoy’s teeth traced his tip through the cotton, and his breath hissed in. “<i>Fuck</i>. More.”</p><p>Malfoy’s shoulders tilted as one of his hands tugged Harry’s boxers down, cock bobbing free as he tightened his grip in Malfoy’s hair. It was instinctive to want to cover himself, but warm lips were already sliding up his thighs toward his groin, and he didn’t want to relinquish the soft strands between his fingers.</p><p>The itch under his skin melted into a burning heat that followed the wake of the other man’s touch, spurred on by the soft moans Malfoy made as he kissed his way over Harry’s skin.</p><p>A hot wet line licked up Harry’s shaft, and he squeaked, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth. Malfoy grinned up at him, absolutely gorgeous in his glee. He licked his lips and held Harry’s gaze as he inched closer to the tip of his cock, hand firmly around the base. With a quirk of his eyebrow, his lips parted, tongue flicking out as he slid himself forward.</p><p>Harry’s vision faltered, or maybe he closed his eyes. He couldn’t have said for sure. His world shrank down to the soft hair in his hands, the slick, wet heat enveloping his cock, and the insistent, urgent tension building at the base of his spine. His hips thrust forward, and Malfoy moaned softly around his cock, winding the tension in him tighter.</p><p>“Stop,” he whispered, pulling Malfoy back by the hair, despite a petulant little whine. Harry chuckled a laugh. “Too good, too fast.”</p><p>A wide grin split Malfoy’s upturned face, and he sat up and swung his legs back in front of him to lean back on his elbows, a showcase of warm alabaster skin and glistening satin. He licked his lips, plump, pink, and wet. Without waiting for Harry, he slid his thumbs down to his hips, arched his back and dragged the soft knickers down his legs.</p><p>“Ten minutes,” he whispered with a smirk. “Hand.” </p><p>He beckoned with his own, and Harry reached for his outstretched fingers. A whisper of magic, and his fingers were slick and cool. “Huh,” he huffed, rubbing the pads of his fingers together. “Now what?”</p><p>Malfoy wiggled his ass closer to the edge of the table, and Harry’s chest felt tight. Having another man touch him had been easy, but reciprocating was exceptionally foreign.</p><p>“For… five minutes, whatever you want,” Malfoy replied lazily, folding his arms behind his head, gaze on Harry. “Within reason. Don’t steal my clothes and run off.”</p><p>“Okay,” he whispered, not sure what one does with a lubed up hand. Well, he knew what he’d do with it if he were alone, but he didn’t think Malfoy wanted a quick handjob.</p><p>Malfoy’s long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around his own cock, stroking as much as offering it to Harry. He watched the skin glide as the other man’s hand moved, milking a drop of clear fluid from the tip already.</p><p>He leaned down, dry hand on the table, slick hand still unsure of its role, and stretched his tongue out to catch that single drop. His tongue swirled over the head of Malfoy’s cock, pulling soft curses from his lips.</p><p>Encouraged, Harry rounded his lips over his teeth and sank the hard length into his mouth, once, then twice, then again and again, nose butting against Malfoy’s hips a little too hard. Tight fingers clutched his hair, and Malfoy <i>screamed</i>, his whole body jerking.</p><p>“<i>Circe’s sopping snatch</i>, Potter!”</p><p>Harry hummed a question around the hot, thick length lodged in his throat.</p><p>“Gods below, don’t fucking <i>stop</i>!”</p><p>The fingers in his hair pulled him up, but didn’t let go, grey eyes burning into his as he caught on. With an awkward smile, he tightened his lips and worked his tongue down the underside of Malfoy while he slid slowly back down.</p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Malfoy murmured with each pass. </p><p>The hardness in his mouth took on a frantic, beating pulse, and Harry slowed. His fingers had cooled, and he wondered if it was alright to press them against the wrinkled skin of the other man’s arse, or if he should warm them up. Seemed courteous.</p><p>He sent a wandless warming spell into his slick fingers, and traced Malfoy’s hole. Firm tension yielded quickly, and his middle finger slipped in. A low, guttural groan shook Malfoy’s chest, and Harry bobbed his head, taking shallower strokes of the length in his mouth as he got his bearings.</p><p>One finger slid easily enough in and out, so he added a second. The warm, slick digits sank in to his last knuckle, and he wiggled them experimentally.</p><p>A supremely inarticulate honk sounded from Malfoy when he touched a certain spot, so he focused there for a moment, tracing the round shape as his mouth worked around the head of the cock in his mouth.</p><p>The shape swelled against his fingers, and he nudged it harder as his tongue worked more firmly along Malfoy’s hard length.</p><p>The wordless shout evolved into a steady, “Fuck. Fuck. <i>FUCK</i>!”</p><p>Malfoy’s hands tried to pull his mouth away, but Harry growled softly and kept his mouth and hand moving. The other man’s body convulsed around his fingers, throbbing in time with his cock and the hot jets that poured into Harry’s mouth.</p><p>He moaned softly as he sucked in time with the pulsing movements of Malfoy’s body, but the sound was drowned out under the other man’s keening shriek.</p><p>“<i>Shit</i>, Potter!” he hissed. “Stop, damn you. Fuck. Just, what the <i>fuck</i>.”</p><p>Harry raised his head and licked his lips clean. “Good?”</p><p>“Fucking hell, Potter.” He looked down, scarlet cheeks slowly fading back to normal. “I just… <i>fuck</i>. Merlin’s thrice-damned tits, man.” Malfoy threw a forearm over his eyes as his breathing slowed.</p><p>An eager grin stretched Harry’s lips, and he wondered if Malfoy had forgotten that there were still fingers up his ass. He crooked his fingers, and Malfoy made that wonderful honking sound again. It was even better than his sighs, and Harry swallowed a chuckle.</p><p>Malfoy drew a long, shuddering breath, and lifted his shoulders, elbows on the table. “Five minutes. Fuck me.”</p><p>Harry’s cock throbbed at the command. “Are you sure? I can-”</p><p>“Fuck. Me.” Malfoy said firmly, eyes hard. He scooted his hips just off the edge of the table and wrapped his fingers around the sides of the cold metal nearest his hips. “Hard. If you would.”</p><p>Nodding, Harry withdrew his fingers, muttered a protection spell, and slid his slick hand down his shaft, lining up with Malfoy’s entrance. He glanced up, fully intent on asking for permission again, but Malfoy’s hips tilted down, pressing him around Harry’s tip. “Please,” he whispered, back arching down to meet Harry as he stood frozen.</p><p>The burning need under his skin flowed down, pulling his hips forward to sink his length slowly into the man before him, and he groaned as tight, slick muscle gripped him. Hips flush together, he blew out a breath and fought the urge to pull back and slam himself forward.</p><p>Hiding a sneaky grin, Harry decided to see what kinds of interesting noises he could pull from Malfoy before he gave in to the pressure building in his pelvis. With a careful tilt and thrust, he ran his cock over that most interesting of places. </p><p>Malfoy rewarded him with a spectacular groan and reciprocating grind of his hips. Harry’s mouth fell open. It would have been an amusing display if it didn’t feel so fucking <i>good</i>. Wet heat pulled the skin back along his length, teasing the growing pressure in his hips, winding it tighter and hotter with each pass.</p><p>Malfoy’s hand gripped his own length, sliding its way down as he groaned again. Harry stood steady as the other man’s hips worked short, slow thrusts on Harry’s cock while he stroked in time, picking up pace.</p><p>He was gorgeous, Harry thought. Laid out, lost to pleasure, oblivious to anything else. </p><p>The short, snapping movements of the other man’s hips grew frantic, driving Harry deeper, as his moans evolved to a steady, whimpering plea.</p><p>“So close, Harry,” he panted, eyes shut. “Fuck me.”</p><p>Harry leaned forward, hands on the table, and drove deep into him, curling his hips up as he dragged his cock over Malfoy’s prostate. One of his hands clutched the side of the table, pulling himself down against Harry’s hard thrusts as pleasure built and pooled in them both, urging release.</p><p>“<i>Fuck</i>, Draco,” he groaned, control shattering as his climax overwhelmed him. He came, thrusting in sharp jerks. Draco cried out below him, hot white ropes unspooling over pale skin.</p><p>Harry shook his head as his breathing slowed, buried cock still twitching with every movement each of them made. Malfoy snorted a laugh, and Harry groaned at the sudden pressure around his length.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” he chided.</p><p>“Now you’ve had me… am I still a DILF?” Malfoy asked, holding back a laugh.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“A dad you’d like to fuck?” he drawled, hand gesturing absently. “A DILF?” </p><p>Harry hid his eyes behind a hand as the realization crashed through him. <i>Merlin’s fucking merkin.</i></p><p>“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Total fucking DILF, Malfoy.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b><span class="u">D.I.L.F.</span><br/>D: Dad<br/>I: I<br/>L: LOVE to<br/>F: Fuck</b>
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